


flames to dust

by groundopenwide



Category: Glee
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groundopenwide/pseuds/groundopenwide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sebastian's palm slips out to cover his own, Hunter knows exactly three things for sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	flames to dust

When Sebastian’s palm slips out to cover his own, Hunter knows exactly three things for sure:

One- He is going to be expelled. It isn’t a question. The minute trembling of Sebastian’s thumb as it settles against the curve of Hunter’s pinky and the clammy sensation of his skin says it all. There lies a designated few inches of space between them on the bench as they wait outside Headmaster Wellington’s office, and as Sebastian hesitantly tiptoes his fingers out to close some of that distance, the sinking feeling in Hunter’s stomach is immediate. He knows he shouldn’t have done it. The steroids had been a stupid,  _stupid_ idea—Sebastian even told him as much—and now, with all of the publicity…it makes Hunter nauseous just thinking about it. It’s the reason they are both here today, seated on the unforgiving wood as they both stare resolutely at the pastel colored wall across from them. Vaguely, Hunter wonders what exactly it is they want from Sebastian; are they going to try and frame him for this, too? (Hunter already knows that he will do everything in his power to make sure this doesn’t happen. Sebastian has played no role in this. It is a price Hunter has to pay, and his price alone).

Two- Sebastian is scared. And Sebastian doesn’t do scared; he doesn’t get nervous or worry about the well being of others. Yet, here he is, placing the heel of his palm over Hunter’s wrist as he snakes his fingertips into the crevices between Hunter’s own, his hand a heavy, comforting weight that automatically conveys _it’s okay_ and  _I’m here_ and  _we’re going to figure this out._ But it also says,  _I don’t want you to go._  That is the most apparent. Not once has Sebastian done so much as squeezed his elbow or touched him in any way that could be misconstrued in public, and now, he is all but holding Hunter’s hand, their fingers just shy of being twined utterly together. It is a last-ditch attempt, a desperate grasp at what they have.  _I’m going to miss you. Please, don’t leave me._

Three- And, in a flash of painful realization, Hunter realizes that he doesn’t want to. The thought of being without Sebastian—his crude humor, the smooth tones of his voice, the gentle press of his mouth to Hunter’s stubbled jaw when he doesn’t shave on the weekend and they spend the entire forty-eight hours curled up on the two twin beds that have been pushed together in their dorm—it strikes him like a punch straight to the gut. How is he supposed to move on and recover from the humiliation of being called out on his mistakes when the concept of even trying to function on a day-to-day basis seems like an impossible task without Sebastian at his side?

He is in love with this boy. Of all the jumbled thoughts that are coursing through Hunter’s mind, this one abruptly becomes the most prominent: he is in love with Sebastian, but he doesn’t deserve to have their palms pressed together like this, to have Sebastian acting as an unwavering, supportive presence at his side. He doesn’t deserve to have Sebastian love him back, because he is rude and demanding and is about to be kicked out of Dalton, the only place that has ever remotely accepted him in the first place.

Sebastian shouldn’t be wasting the small, caring part of himself on someone like Hunter. His pinky shouldn’t fit perfectly into the space between Hunter’s thumb and forefinger, as if it were meant to be there all along.

But when Hunter tips his hand over so that his own palm is facing the ceiling, his fingers intertwining with Sebastian’s in an impossibly tight grip that almost mimics the sight of two hands folded in prayer, Sebastian merely squeezes his palm in response and  _holds_.

Hunter may be far from worthy, but this boy loves him, and he, in turn, loves Sebastian right back.


End file.
